


I'm Always Cold Now

by ElfGrove



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Burning Soul Mates, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I'm Cold... So Cold, M/M, Mutual Pining (Implied), POV First Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers, the lips must never touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 21:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfGrove/pseuds/ElfGrove
Summary: Set post-movie. Lio who's never been cold for the last 30 years of his life (except when under violent attack) suddenly having to adjust to a world where he's never warm enough.His brain is constantly on high alert. Cold is danger. Pain. Threat of imprisonment and death.Galo wants to help.





	I'm Always Cold Now

**Author's Note:**

> Cleaned up from a twitter fic thread.

30 years was a lifetime.

30 years with fire imbued in every cell.

30 years leading a guerilla rebellion.

30 years in a body that didn't age.

30 years fighting and scraping and clawing just to be treated like a human being.

30 years where the hint of ice or cold meant violence. Meant imprisonment and torture and Slow. Painful. Death. Cold threatened every thing and every one I loved. It was burned into my bones to associate any chill with danger.

I was so young when the fire settled into my bones.

Oh, I'd thought I was all grown up, old enough to drink, to rent a car, but I'd been wrong. I'd barely been past childhood. I’m older now, not physically, but in experience. 30 years later.

30 years later, when I stood beside a frustrating, brilliant, kind, fool of a man who burned without having the fire in his bones. Who had stopped and taken the time to understand the Burnish. Who had turned on everything he'd known simply because it was the right thing to do. Who hadn’t compromised his ideals, insisting not only on doing the right thing, but dragging the leader of Mad Burnish with him into making things right for everyone.

And standing side by side, they had extinguished the fires all across the world.

I am still Burnish.

They all were. Even with the Promare gone. Burnish had become more than just the flames in their bones. They were a people. A culture born out of shared experience and being outcasts and refugees for three decades. Having nothing but each other against the world. Having to scrape out a life in the abandoned shells of civilization.

Even now, not everyone trusted them or considered them human. Burnish were still Other.

Even with the fires gone.

I’m cold all the time now.

Somehow, I'd expected to burn out at some point.

To run through the flame, turn to ashes, and return to the earth having done the best I could for my people. For the flame.

I never imagined standing on the other side of the flames, still breathing.

Cold to my very core.

Every. Single. Day.

"You make me cold just looking at you, at least put a shirt on," Remi groused loudly.

I turn to see the man push black-rimmed glasses further up his nose, glaring without any real heat at Galo, who stands in the fire station office, shirtless, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"My burning firefighter's soul keeps me warm!"

Galo's pronouncement is met with good-natured groans from the people who love him for his earnestness even as it annoys. They’re a unit. A family.

Aina, ever the voice of reason, pipes in, "It's the central heating. You're going to want a jacket and a shirt outside. Fall is finally settling in."

I find myself smiling involuntarily, still unnoticed where I stand next to the window, soaking up the rays of the sun and standing as close as I can to a heat vent without drawing attention to the need. Watching the way the firefighters bicker for a long few moments, marveling at the people that I once believed would always be his enemies, but whose company now fills me with fondness.

I speak softly, interrupting the moment, "Morning, Galo."

"LIO!"

It should be impossible, but the fool's face gets even brighter when he turns to find me there, practically vibrating in his eagerness.

Galo has such capacity for joy and trust after everything. It's admirable really.

I could never hang onto that sort of faith after everything. I’m made of thorns and caution. Loyalty, once you’ve earned it, but caution over trust. Aina has made jokes about my being a living example of the Hedgehog’s Dilemma.

Maybe I stick around hoping something of Galo will rub off on me.

Maybe I’m looking for a way to repay the debt owed for saving not just my own life, but my people.

Galo strides over, eyes still bright, a bounce in his steps, "What are you doing here?"

I arch an eyebrow, smile still firmly in place, "We had lunch plans?"

"He's been waiting on you, meathead," Aina laughs.

Galo's cheeks redden as he turns back to his friend, making excuses involving some sort of experiment with Lucia. That surely means trouble and a new invention later.

"You smell like sweat!” Aina is still laughing, batting Galo away from her with a removed glove, “Get away from me!"

I chuckle, "Galo?"

It still shocks me how attentive he is with all the distractions, to catch the quiet word amongst the noise, "Yeah! We're going!"

"Get a shirt," Remi reminds him.

"Yeah!"

* * *

Minutes later, we're on the streets.

It's cold. The weather really is turning.

Galo wears his jacket open over a t-shirt, barely affected.

I hunch into my own tightly zipped up coat, senses on high alert, flinching every time another pedestrian passes too close.

"You okay?" He bumps my shoulder with his own, within my eye line the entire time, and I still nearly jump out of my skin.

"Fine," I hunch further in on myself, smothering the reaction. "Just people staring."

"You saved them. They know that."

Galo is so gentle.

He sees the best in people, even those who don't deserve it.

I don't know how to explain to him that I'm on edge all the time now. That it isn't the people staring. I lead the Burnish, I can take the attention.

I don't know how to tell him the cold sets my nerves on edge as if I had a gun held against my temple. Constantly.

I'm just waiting for the shot to go off.

To be dragged into a cell again.

To watch my people die again.

Anywhere outside the Burnish sectors of the city where the heat is turned up by the hundreds of other people like me until the buildings are like hothouses, I'm cold every single second.

And that cold sets my teeth on edge, makes my senses scream danger.

And it doesn't stop.

I don't know how to tell him being cold sets me on a knife's edge, and I'm never not cold anymore.

It sounds foolish even to my own ears.

Autumn is just beginning.

The scientists say it might be the coldest winter in recorded history because of the planetary-wide temperature drop and the Earth's core readjusting to the loss of the Promare.

It terrifies me to know it's going to get even colder.

That I'll likely never be warm again.

Never feel safe or strong again.

I know I'm still strong.

That I am safe.

But I don't feel it.

And I don't want a "Burning Soul" speech trying to encourage me right now.

I hum in response and tilt my chin up to the pizza place Galo loves, "Here?"

That earns me a grin and he starts practically skipping ahead of me to go inside.

Galo starts to head for the patio seating. It's his favorite. The open air, the ability to watch and interact with people.

The little pizzeria has seen a loss in business. The pizzaiolo being outed as a Burnish just before everything happened nearly ended the place.

The Burnish is back at work, as is the owner.

I like the place too, not just because the owner is a good man who supported Burnish before the event, but because now his clientele is almost exclusively people who at least tolerate us politely.

It might not seem like a big thing to be able to say of a place, but it often is a rare thing.

So I like the restaurant, but I steel my spine, preparing to spend the entire meal on tenterhooks sitting outside.

The owner takes one look at me, and points Galo to a place by the giant pizza oven that is centered in the dining room, a table tucked around a corner up against the warm bricks.

"Give everyone a break to eat in peace," He explains when Galo starts to protest. "Two heroes in my shop distracts from the food. You just eat and enjoy today. I'll give you one pizza on the house."

Galo goes without argument at the sound of free pizza and I exchange a grateful look with the pizzaiolo. The owner must know how Burnish are always cold now because of talking to him, and the gesture is an unexpected kindness.

It's comforting, sitting with my back to the side of the oven. Galo chatters on about his day and plans for the week and I find myself able to relax a little and really appreciate the time.

It's not perfect, but it's so much better.

It's nice to be able to focus on enjoying my time with Galo.

He's busy as Ignis is clearly training him to become the next fire chief. I'm not certain Galo has realized it yet.

I'm busy too.

The Promare are gone, but the Burnish are still here.

They still look to me to lead.

Negotiating with the newly elected government a route between labeling us as terrorists or refugees and the Burnish potentially bankrupting the country with the reparations we could demand from international bodies for war crimes that violate even what the Jenova Convention imagined.

Galo's not interested in the governmental negotiations, but he encourages me to elaborate on the community building programs in the BAER Zones. He loves to hear about the programs to help the Burnish train for jobs, find work, refurbish the buildings in the BAER Zones, government-assisted food programs, educate the children, and integrate the Burnish back into society without losing our community.

Galo is there helping at least half of the days he’s off duty.

Coming back from a long day of negotiations to find Galo playing a pick-up basketball game with Burnish children or helping to pass out rations... I don't have words for it yet.

It almost feels like warmth rekindling in my bones where the fire is gone forever.

Galo would say something about a Burning Soul, and...

No.

Three pizzas later, Galo eats like teenager despite being more than twice that age, we're walking back to the fire station.

The air seems even colder now.

It's not possible the temperature dropped even more at midday.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles.

What could have made the temperature here drop?

There are still plenty of people who blame the Burnish for everything that happened.

Blame us for not laying down to die. For the downfall of their beloved Governor, as if he hadn't chosen his own path. As if he hadn't tortured and killed people for the crime of being born a certain way.

Foresight and Prometh's weapons are still out there.

I feel my muscles tighten.

There are people everywhere.

Anyone could be seeking revenge, and I can't know who or where until they chose to act.

My face is known. It’s been all over the media for months. Since my capture as the leader of Mad Burnish and continuing even now as I negotiate with the new government for aid and Burnish rights.

There are people who don’t blame Burnish for the past once the truth came out, or at least give lip service to the idea, but despise and fear that we’re taking too much in the aftermath. As if giving a Burnish child a meal ration takes the food from their own mouths.

My enemies could be anyone.

Galo’s face has been next to mine in the spotlight nearly every step of the way these past months.

The two of us out together are impossible not to recognize.

I’m a sitting duck.

Something firm comes down on my back from behind, wrapping around without warning. A heavy weight clamps over my shoulders, and I bit back the instinct to scream.

My brain calls for the fire that isn't there, will never come again.

I want my armor.

My Bike.

MY FLAME.

I refuse to go down quietly.

The Burnish still need me.

I’ve survived being hunted for 30 years and fire or no, I will not go easily.

I spin on the attacker, lashing out with foot and fist, finding my mark.

My vision has gone white from the adrenaline. I can’t make out the details of my assailant. What weapon they used against me.

Whoever had the gall to attack me is thrown back anyways.

Cold races through my limbs, sharp as a knife, stealing my breath and making me drag raggedly at the icy air.

I have no flame.

I’m only human.

I am a Burnish without his fire.

I am vulnerable.

I shift into a fighting stance on sheer muscle memory.

I can hear the gasps of people around me on the street.

Forget them.

They aren't the target. They aren’t under attack.

I am.

My people are.

Galo could be implicated just for— GALO.

My panicked brain flares again with fresh alarm.

Where is Galo?

He'd been right next to me!

Right there!

If he—

I force myself to focus on the attacker, white hot rage battling the ice that rips through my veins where the fire should be.

Under attack.

My body and nerves and brain keep screaming.

UNDER ATTACK.

Sprawled on the ground before me is… Galo.

He's landed on his ass, arms braced behind him, much like their first meeting all those months ago. But the look on his face now isn't defiance and bravery.

Galo stares up at me with wide confused eyes like a wounded puppy. His jacket is gone, and a quickly darkening bruise is blooming across his cheek.

I take a step backwards, hand shaking as I reach up to touch my own shoulder.

My empty lungs desperately try to pull in more icy air. At least that burns.

Everything is sharp jagged edges as I struggle to breathe and my fingers touch familiar fabric that isn't my own coat.

Galo is still on the ground. Staring.

He—

I— I attacked my friend. For lending me a jacket.

My friend noticed I was cold and was giving me his jacket, because he is gentle and kind and selfless—

And I attacked him for his kindness.

I drag in another breath that cuts my throat with the icy air. I can feel how wide his my eyes are. I’m panicking. Knowing it doesn’t make it any easier to control. I can’t stop it.

I shake my head, taking a hesitant step backwards.

I didn't mean to.

I'd never—

But I did.

I—

No.

Two steps back became three. Then four.

I need to get away.

Everything’s ruined.

I turn and the steps pick up speed. Past crowds of people who stare and point.

I run.

* * *

The sun is down, has been down for hours, when there’s a knock at my door.

Gripping my head in my hands I stay hunched in the chair.

"Go away."

I’m broken.

It had only been a jacket.

A stupid jacket.

"Boss," Meis' voice comes through the door, uncertain. "He ain't exactly takin ‘no’ for an answer."

"It can wait until tomorrow," I growl at the closed door. "I'm not seeing anyone tonight."

"Too bad," A fist bangs against the door alongside the familiar but unexpected voice. "I'm coming in."

I probably should have expected him.

"Better have pants on," Galo's normal humor falls flat in his voice as he opens the door and steps inside, shoving his way past Meis.

"Galo." My voice cracks hallway through, "What are you—“

Galo shuts the door behind himself carefully and quietly. Not slamming it, but still forcefully, clearly refusing to let Meis follow him in.

"What happened?"

He doesn’t even sound angry. I refuse to meet his eyes, staring at the floor, and twisting my hands together. I don’t know how to face him right now.

Creaking steps cross the room of the old building.

"Come on Lio, talk to me," He crouches down before me, almost forcing our eyes to meet.

I jerk my head sharply away, denying myself his gentleness.

"Did I do something to piss you off?"

What can I say? How can I explain myself?

"I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry."

How can he believe he’s in the wrong here? He did nothing but be kind.

I respond through gritted teeth, "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Pretty sure I do," Galo's hands move, and my eyes follow the motion involuntarily, watching the way he ruffles his own hair in a habit that seems to be half embarrassment, half an attempt at self-comfort.

How can he be like this? After everything he’s seen in the world, how is this man this way?

"You don't hit people for no reason. I know that." Blue eyes lift, catching mine for the first time since I left him sprawled in the middle of the sidewalk hours ago. "So what's going on?"

"It's nothing you did," I close my eyes, lowering my head again to run my hands through my own hair then drag them down until my palms press against closed eyes. "No. I'm sorry."

I shift further back in the chair.

I don't want this, but I know what I must do.

For both our sakes.

"You should stay away from me."

There’s a drawn out sigh, and a heavy thump on the wooden floor. Fabric rustles, and Galo's voice echoes around the room, sounding too casual, as if he’s looking around despite having been here dozens of times before. "Damn, it's always so hot in here."

I look up, eyes widening to find him siting cross-legged in the center of the floor, his shirt a discarded wad of fabric next to him.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable." Galo's smile is unabashed. "This is gonna take a while, right?"

"Galo..."

He only grins wider, "Lio."

"Put your shirt back on."

"No way. Your apartment is a sauna. You take yours off."

"Galo,” I try to steel my voice, already knowing I’m unable to in response to him. I’ve weakened in the face of his companionship. “Go home."

"After you talk to me."

"You can't force this."

"Not forcing. Just being here for you until you're ready to talk about whatever's bothering you. Because we’re Burning Soul," He coughs on the last word as if he had said something wrong. "Friends."

I sigh, "I want to be alone."

"No you don't." Galo lays back, long body stretching across the floor as he makes himself comfortable. "If you really wanted me gone, you would’ve kicked me out by now."

My eyes linger on the dark bruise over Galo's cheekbone, "Maybe I already did enough damage."

Galo startles at that, fingers wandering to the bruise as if he'd forgotten it was there. He winces when he prods at it.

I look away.

"I've taken worse hits from Remi."

"Not for things that aren't your fault."

He sounds amused, "Sure I have."

Frustration bleeds into my voice again, "I'm not Remi."

"You're not," Galo agrees. "Remi tells me when he's worried or angry at me. You're not Remi, but I want you to be comfortable to do that too. Tell me what you’re thinking. When you’re upset. Yell at me if you need to."

"I'm not angry with you."

"Good." Galo shifts, squinting up uneasily, "I'm not angry at you either."

"Maybe you should be."

There is a long silence.

I feel my skin itch with nerves, but between the guilt and the heat of his apartment, at least I’m not cold too right now. I know he has every right to be furious with me, and yet I’m afraid of it. Afraid of the moment he’ll turn his back on me as too much trouble. He saved me, and what has it gained him? Trouble, a media circus, invasive questions, government agencies questioning his and my motives constantly, a prickly person who doesn’t easily go with the flow the way his firefighting friends do, and now violence. I know he has every right to turn his back on me as more trouble than I’m worth and move on. I still dread the moment I’ll see his back for the last time. I’ve lost so much over all these years, and still, I’ll miss him when he leaves.

After a too long moment, Galo rolls over on his side, clearly prepared to sleep where he lies, "Nah."

* * *

I never did try to force Galo to leave.

I heard Meis and Gueira exchange quiet heated words outside the door about an hour after Galo arrived, but they didn't try to interfere.

Galo stayed on the floor, thanking me when I wordlessly dropped a blanket and pillow on him and made my way to my own bed.

Hours later, I still lay awake.

I have a meeting with the new Governor tomorrow, and Galo is sleeping on the floor of my studio apartment as if the last 16 hours shouldn't have thrown our entire friendship into the blender, determined to wait for me to be ready to talk about it.

He’s so certain that things between us aren't shattered.

Sure that I’m not a hollow shell that has finally shattered.

Light from the city street leaks between thin curtains, highlighting the rise and fall of Galo's chest.

He didn't even move to the couch.

Not that it’s much softer than the floor.

"I don't know how to explain it so it makes sense."

I find myself whispering into the small hours of the morning when dawn isn't even a hint yet. Trying to find the words to give to the unconscious man who has become such a huge part of my world. My hope. My happiness.

"It's gone. And the spot where it was will never be whole again. And that's okay. It was the right thing. It had to happen to save everyone. I— I don't regret it."

I release a shaking breath, tugging the blanket up to cover more of my head.

"But it changed things. It changed all of us. I can't— You can't just touch me now. I— That sounds stupid. It's not something you did. I need to— I can't— No one can touch me."

"Okay," Galo's voice is such a soft a whisper, I almost don’t register it as his. "I can do that."

I blink, sitting up suddenly in bed, "I thought you were asleep."

Galo sits up more slowly, watching me carefully, every line of his body edged with tension, "I couldn't sleep."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"What way?" He scrunches in on himself, holding his knees to his chest as if he wants to take up less space. Like he's decided he’s invading and unwelcome in my space. As if such a thing could ever be true. "It's okay if you don't want to be touched. Plenty of people don't. I can do better about it."

"It’s not like that. I don't want you to be scared to," I drag a hand across my scalp in frustration. The words still won’t come easily. "Everything we've been through together, it's not like I don't want you to touch me."

"Oookkkaaayyy. Then—”

"But I can't handle it anymore."

"Me touching you?"

I exhale a sharply, almost a laugh, "Anyone."

"Sounds lonely."

"It's cold."

"Mmm."

"Not like you're thinking. Everything's cold. it's too cold all the time, and I can't— I panic. It's like the Freeze Force is on my heels, all the time. I can't—"

Galo's grip around his knees goes white knuckled with the effort to stay contained to his huddle on the floor, "They're in jail. You're safe."

"I know that. But I'm not. Not really. I don't feel it, at least."

"Never?"

I shake my head, "I feel in danger all the time now. I can't stop it."

"I'll be there for you."

"I know, but I can't— I have to be strong for the Burnish."

"So you can't lean on your friends? On me?"

One corner of my mouth tugs up in a hint of a smile, "You're not my friend?"

"Of course I am!"

Chuckling, I relax a little and lean forward on the bed, "I'm glad."

"You can depend on me more, though.” His eyes burn with familiar determination, “I'll have your back."

"I wish it were that simple."

"Isn't it?"

"Not everything is rational, Galo. This," I hesitate to use the word, to admit it aloud. "Fear isn't rational. I know it I'm oversensitive, but it doesn't fix it. Knowing it doesn't help."

"How can I help?"

"I don't know." I lowered my head, smiling deprecatingly at my feet. "You can't. I think. Maybe, after all those years, surviving did what Freeze Force and Foresight failed to do. I've broken somewhere vital."

"You're not broken."

I look up to find Galo standing over me, shoulders shaking with contained frustration.

"You're. Not. Broken."

"Galo—" 

"YOU'RE NOT."

"I put you on the ground for lending me jacket, Galo." I’m trying to speak calmly, but my voice still cracks at the admission. "Look at your face. I did that in response to kindness."

Galo is a wall, "No."

"You don't really get to argue with facts."

His expression briefly softens to that _have-you-met-me_ look I’m intimately familiar with now. I kind of love that look on him. It’s comforting somehow. A constant in a chaotic world.

"Those may be facts, but they aren't the truth. there's big gaping holes in between your 'Facts.'" His expression is steel, "I know I'm a fool, but I'm not stupid. Facts are Kray saved my life as a kid and supported my rise through the ranks of Burning Rescue every step of the way. But the truth was he resented that I survived and only supported my career hoping it would kill me."

I inhale sharply. We’ve talked about it before, right after the event. He explained how Kray had betrayed him too. We hadn’t talked about it again since.

"So yeah, Lio. I gave you my jacket and you punched and kicked me. Facts. But what is the Truth? Because there's some big in between missing there."

When I don't immediately answer, he deflates a little.

"If you want to tell me. I trust you, and I don't think you hit me just because of a jacket. I've still got your back, whether you explain or not."

Of all the people in the world, how did I manage to meet him?

I shake my head, and scoot across the bed until I can swing my legs to the floor. I pat the space on the mattress next to me, inviting Galo to sit.

Once he does, I’m silent for a long moment before speaking, searching the woodgrain of the floor for inspiration that doesn’t come.

"I didn't realize it was you."

Galo doesn't interrupt.

"I was cold. And it kept making me think of Foresight's containment weapons. I didn't see you move, and suddenly there was something wrapping around me, pressure on my shoulders— I thought— I— I couldn't think beyond not getting captured again."

Galo’s voice is so small, it seems impossible to think it’s his, “I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong. You were being kind. I just— I can't handle touch anymore. There's something wrong with me."

"You know," Galo exhales slowly, leaning back, carefully not touching, eyes focused on the ceiling. "There's these doctors that come work with the Burnish kids. Psychic-somethings. They've helped a lot when some of the kids have panic attacks sometimes. Different things, there was a word for it, but it sets them off. The Docs figure most of the Burnish have severe PTSD. The adults too."

I lean back to watch Galo's face, "You can remember PTSD, but not triggers?"

He shrugs, "Triggers are for guns. Doesn't make sense for what happens to the kids. Maybe you should try talking to them though. The Docs."

"I know I have PTSD, Galo. I spent 30 years fighting a war, it'd be stranger if I didn't have it."

"They can probably help."

"I don't see why I need them to identify what I already know I have."

"They can help manage it."

"They can't unbreak me."

"I still don't buy that broken stuff. You're injured. It's a different injury than either of us are used to dealing with. Needs special doctors." Galo's eyes slide back to meet mine, "Isn't it worth a try?"

I try to make light of it, "Is not touching me is that hard a rule to follow?"

"You thinking you're broken is the part I can't accept.” The space between his eyes scrunches with something near to anger, “You're amazing and brave and I want you to be happy."

"I am happy. The Burnish are alive.” I pause, “You're alive."

"I want you to be happier."

I huff out a laugh, falling forward and across his chest to lean into Galo's shoulder, "You're impossible."

He freezes beneath me, a deer in headlight, "Wait, I thought the new rule was no touching?"

I let more of my weight press against his chest, discouraging him from moving away. "I told you. It's not like I don't want you to touch me."

He hesitates, "Can I hug you?"

I nod, not moving to see his expression.

One arm comes up to wrap around me cautiously, "This okay?"

"Yeah," My breath shook on the exhale. "Just— don't sneak up on me, and no touching me when I'm cold."

"Are you cold now?"

I shake my head.

"Okay," Galo breathes out slowly, then wraps his other arm around me, letting us both fall to the mattress, wrapped up together. "Okay?"

"You're warm," I mutter, digging arms under Galo and pressing closer, holding him in return.

He grouses, "Your apartment's a sauna and I already run hot."

I chuckle, "Maybe it’s your Burning Soul?"

He sounds a little petulant at the joke, "Maybe."

"You don't have to—"

A brief squeeze from Galo cuts me off, "Please don't tell me to let go right now."

"Okay," I shift against his chest until I can look at his face. "You're not overheating?"

His voice jumps an octave, "Why would you think that!?"

Smiling gently, I answer, "Your face is red."

"So's yours."

"I'm warm."

"Good."

* * *

It’s nearly Noon the next day when Galo returns to the fire station.

Aina whistles loudly as he crosses the threshhold, "Same clothes, pay up!"

Remi passes her a folded bill and raised his eyebrows skeptically, "You make up with your Burning Soul Mate?"

"Shut up," Galo stomps past them both, cheeks and soul burning.

"You told him how you feel, didn't you?" Aina sighs, "That's why he punched you in that video that's all over social media."

"NO!"

"Uh-huh..."

"Leave me alone!"

**Author's Note:**

> I intentionally misspelled "Geneva Convention" as "Jenova Convention" because it's a fictional world with a fictional version of the treaty.
> 
> Galo has definitely been calling Lio his "Burning Soul Mate" around his friends and almost let it slip to Lio without having told him how he feels first.


End file.
